Explanation of Badfic: It's intentional, folks.
The goal is to make it as cliché-ridden, in a humorous way, as I
possibly can. It's not meant as a slight at bards or their
stories, 'cause without them, this never would have been written.

Disclaimers: All together now: "Stacia the
needy, she's not greedy, posts her stuff in cyberspace, signs it
with a smiley face, some of it is funny, but none makes any
money, she's Stacia, Stacia the needy." That's just my way
of saying I'm not trying to profit from characters that I've
based on the copyrighted property of MCA, Universal, RenPic, or
whoever it is that owns 'em these days.

Violence: Huh?

Language: English, mostly. They're adults and
they use naughty words.

Sex: Yes, please. What? Oh. Yeah, they're
together. Very together. If this offends you or is illegal where
you are, I'm sorry. Please click the little X in the upper
right-hand corner of your screen.

Thanks: To Faithful (even though she blushed
too much to be of much help as a beta), Kam, SX, and the entire
Ex-Guards mailing list for putting up with this truly awful piece
of prose.
Feedback is most happily accepted at stacia_seaman@yahoo.com

I flicked my honey-blond locks over my toned shoulder and
hopped on the Stairmaster. That's when she came into the gym. She
was six feet tall, with an incredible body and the bluest eyes
I'd ever seen.

She looked at me and time stopped. Well, except for the
Stairmaster. That kept going.

She crossed the room and stopped in front of me. "Hello,
I'm Marina. But of course you already know that because you've
been fantasizing about me for weeks."

I blushed.

"Let me know if you ever want to act out one of those
fantasies." With that, she turned and walked away.

I made a mental note to buy some batteries on the way home.
Tonight was definitely not a night to be without my toys.

My best friend Stephanie, a perfectly built amazon with
caramel eyes and corkscrew curls, looked at me from her perch on
the ExerCycle. She's been in love with me for years, but
understands that she's not The One and always allows me to cry on
her shoulder over yet another failed relationship while
encouraging me in my continuing search for my one true soulmate.

The last five minutes of my Stairmaster workout passed in
silence. I jumped off, grabbed my towel and bottled water, and
walked back to the locker room.

"She's bad news, you know."

I sighed and turned around. "I know, Steph, but when I
looked in her eyes I felt like I'd known her forever."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again,
Becca." She put an arm around my shoulders. "Promise me
you'll be careful."

"Of course." I gave her a quick hug, then headed for
the shower.

**********

I awoke the next morning in a grumpy mood. Despite a good
twenty minutes in fantasyland before I fell asleep, I'd still
dreamed of black hair, blue eyes, a sword, a meadow, and a
palomino. Definitely an interesting combination; probably just as
well, I mused, that I didn't remember the specifics.

I staggered into my kitchen, put some water on to boil and
tossed a bagel into the toaster oven, the only reminder I had of
my first girlfriend.

"No, really, take it. I want you to have it," she'd
said. "I already have three at home."

The whistling of the teakettle cut into my thoughts. I
finished preparing my breakfast and moved into the den. After
popping an Indigo Girls CD into the stereo, I turned on the
computer and munched on my bagel as I waited for it to boot up.

Five minutes later I was online. I groaned when I saw my inbox
- 136 new messages. Scrolling down, I saw that most of them were
from a TV show discussion group mailing list that I subscribe to.
"Probably people grumbling about the writers again," I
said to myself, highlighting and deleting them.

*Ah. 24 new messages. That I can deal with.* The first was
from my agent. I'm a freelance travel writer, which means that I
travel all around the world, write stories about the places I've
been, and then sell them to magazines. It's a great life because
I'm usually either on a trip or writing. When I'm between stories
I spend most of my time in the gym or in bars with my friends.

Now, you're probably wondering how a 25-year-old landed a gig
like this.

Did I mention that I'm independently wealthy?

Well, I am, but you wouldn't know it to look at me. I'm
usually in faded jeans and crop tops, I drive a bright green
Honda Del Sol, and I live in a basement apartment near Dupont
Circle. Hardly the country club image my parents so desperately
want me to project.

It's their own fault, really. After graduation they encouraged
me to spend a summer in Europe -- London, Paris, Rome. They were
horrified when the postcards arrived from Budapest, Zagreb, and
Tirana.

"Rebecca," my mother had wailed during one of my
rare phone calls home. "I read in Newsweek that there
are prostitutes working right out of the Inter-Continental
Hotel."

I've had the travel bug ever since, spending most of the last
five years tramping around third world countries with a walking
stick and battered Jansport knapsack containing only a threadbare
towel, guidebook, travel diary, and bottled water.

Back to my email.

Five--no, six--of the messages were from Julie, my agent--one
congratulating me on the publication of a piece on the Pacific
Northwest, two updating me on the status of my trekking Nepal
travel diary ("I insisted on color pictures, darling,
and the proofs look marvelous"), one gushing over the
"Cycling Ireland" article I sent her last night, and,
finally, two asking about my next project.

"But I just got home," I whined, stretching my arms
over my head. I closed her message, not wanting to think about
leaving again just yet.

Five minutes later my inbox was empty and my trash folder was
full of urban legends (my favorite was the guy in New Jersey who
discovered that his Taco Bell chalupa was full of ground-up lemur
meat), top 10 lists--none of which contained a six--and virus
alerts, both real and fake. Ten people had forwarded messages to
me and not one had bothered to include so much as a "how are
you."

Feeling a little grumpy and full of excess energy, I shut down
the computer and went back into my bedroom to change. Fifteen
minutes later I was on my way to a cardio-kickboxing class.

**********

Ah, another perfect spring day in the nation's capital. As I
trotted out of the gym, the cool breeze on the back of my
still-sweaty neck made me shiver. I was rummaging in my backpack,
looking for a t-shirt, when I ran into a wall.

The six-foot, black-haired, blue-eyed wall of Marina's
perfectly toned female body. Covered only by a black sports bra
and black leggings. With her hands resting firmly on my hips,
where she'd put them to keep me from toppling over when we'd
collided.

For the first time in my life -- no, really -- I was unable to
speak.

She raised an amused eyebrow and crossed her arms over her
chest, emphasizing her cleavage. "We meet again."

"Huh?" I forced my eyes upward and found myself
drowning in her crystal-blue gaze.

Her lips curved into a feral grin and, taking a step back, she
looked me over from top to bottom and back again.

I had closed my eyes during her examination and now I
shuddered involuntarily at the sudden warmth of her breath
against my cheek.

"You should cover up, you know. Somebody might try to
attack you."

When I opened my eyes she was gone. I yanked my t-shirt over
my head and practically ran back to my apartment, trying to
remember where I'd put Flipper. *Get a grip, Becca, you're using
more batteries in your toys than in your walkman these days.*

**********

I sat at my computer, staring into space. A long, hot shower
had helped to relieve some of my tension - well, that and Flipper
- but I was completely unable to concentrate on planning my next
article. I had already decided that this trip would be relaxing.
Maybe the beach? Unbidden, an image of Marina in a black tank
bathing suit floated into my consciousness.

"Damn her!" I pushed the keyboard away. Truth was, I
*had* fantasized about the dark-haired beauty the entire time I
was in Ireland (which, as it turns out, is not the brightest idea
when you're on a ten-day bicycling trip, but that's beside the
point) until I thought I had finally gotten her out of my system.
Obviously, I was wrong.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, replaying her
velvety purr in my mind. "Somebody might try to attack
you," she said as her hand caressed my right breast, her
thumb circling the nipple. I moaned and leaned into--

"Shit!" I stood up and paced the room, running my
hands through my hair. This was bad. This was very bad. I was as
horny as a 15-year-old-boy who's just found his dad's secret
stash of Playboys. This called for serious action.

I hit the speed dial button on my cell phone as I walked back
toward my bedroom. "Steph, it's me. I'll meet you at the Big
Hunt in half an hour."

**********

We had a nice booth in the middle of the bar with a view of
the door and the pool table. Well into my second Midori sour, I
found myself admiring the perfectly heart-shaped ass of the woman
lining up her shot.

"That's not what I meant. She must've noticed me looking
at her and thought it would be fun to mess with me, that's
all." My hands twisted in my lap. "It's not like I'm
even in her league."

"You're kidding me, right?"

Biting my lip, I looked over at Stephanie, then slowly shook
my head, trying to keep the tears from my eyes.

"Oh, honey." She put a toned arm around my shoulder
and pulled me close. "How many times do I have to tell you?
You're beautiful, babe."

I sniffled and nestled against her warm torso. "Thanks,
Stephie. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime, girlie." She pressed a kiss against my
forehead and shifted slightly so that she could wrap both arms
around my waist. "Hey, check it out. She's about to take
another shot."

**********

The bar was crowded now, full of bodies and voices and smoke.
I'd switched to vodka and tonics about an hour ago and was
enjoying a warm, mellow buzz. Steph was leaning against the wall
with her eyes closed, apparently the victim of food coma.

The remnants of our double order of super-deluxe nachos sat in
the middle of the table, adorned with six crumpled napkins, five
cocktail straws, three shredded slices of lime and a maraschino
cherry stem, neatly tied in a knot. Idly, I wondered if there
were any jalapenos left under there.

"Lemme out." Steph slapped my leg as she sat up.

"What's the magic word?"

She gave me her best "dont go there" look and
shoved me again. "C'mon, move. I gotta see a man about a
horse."

"All right, all right." I slid slowly out of the
seat. As I stood, I felt a rush of cold air. Shivering, I turned
around to tell whoever had just walked into the bar to shut the
damn door already.

My mouth went dry. It was her. Jesus, how did she know? Who
could have told her?

I had an epiphany of sorts at my best friend Heather's slumber
party when we were sophomores. We were up late watching bad
movies. Really bad movies. The ones that proudly bore the sticker
saying "Joe Bob says check it out." One of that night's
selections was Chopper Chicks in Zombietown. Watching that
movie, I fell in love.

I mean, I knew I dug chicks, but thus far my fantasies had
consisted of feeling Heather up in the peach-scented bubbles of
my mother's jacuzzi bath. Those disappeared with an audible pop
when I heard Rox say, "For the record, I'm the dyke." I
was smitten. The engines. The chrome. The leather.

And now here she was. Sweet Jesus, here she was. I watched as
she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face,
then shrugged out of her black leather jacket. She wore a
tight-fitting ribbed t-shirt that clung to her torso, ending just
above the waistband of her button-fly jeans. I ran my eyes down
her long legs and only then noticed that the scuffed motorcycle
boots were much closer than they had been a moment ago.

My knees gave out and I sat right on Steph, who gave an
indignant squawk and shoved me off her lap and directly into
Marina.

Her arms closed instinctively around me and I leaned into her,
breathing deeply her scent of leather, cinnamon, and...
"Baby powder?"

She pulled back slightly, one eyebrow raised.
"What?"

I stared at her, surprised, then realized I'd said that last
bit aloud. Pushing away, I looked down and rubbed the back of my
neck with one hand, trying to come up with something to say.

Before I thought of anything, however, a slender, spandex-clad
woman with bleached blonde curls sidled up to Marina and ran a
red-lacquered nail up her forearm. "I missed you,
baby."

A large hand shot out and grabbed the offending appendage as
Marina growled, "Get away from me, Tiffany."

As the women's voices rose, I felt a flush of sudden anger.
How dare Marina hit on me when her girlfriend was here? Who the
hell did she think she was, anyway? *I mean, sure, she's hot--ok,
so she's very hot--and that leather...and that low, sexy
voice...Gods, she's gorgeous when she's mad.* I licked my lips.
If this lasted too much longer I was gonna get rid of the blonde
bimbo myself. I knew I could take her. After all, I was up to the
advanced Tae-Bo tape. My hands curled into fists.

This, of course, did not escape Marina's attention. She
smirked and said to blondie, her tone dismissive, "Go
away." Turning back, she leaned in toward me and purred
seductively, "Now where were we?"

I just stared at her, feeling the energy that rolled off her
body in waves. A second flush made its way over my skin as I
realized what she must be thinking; I had, after all, practically
thrown myself at her. I pulled away slightly. I didn't want to,
mind you, but....well, I couldn't let her think I was that easy,
you know? She hadn't even bought me a drink yet or, now that I
thought about it, even said hello. I frowned slightly.

Tiffany looked from Marina to me. "Oh dear, was I
interrupting something?" She reminded me for all the world
of a kitten who has just learned how sharp its little needlelike
claws are.

"Not at all," I managed to get out, then turned and
fairly ran toward the ladies' room.

Marina caught up to me by the cigarette machine, grabbing my
wrist and spinning me around. "You mind telling me what that
was all about?"

"What what was all about?" I pulled my arm free of
her firm grip.

We were interrupted by a short, stocky shifty-eyed woman in
black jeans and a vest who tapped Marina on the shoulder. Quicker
than I thought possible, the dark beauty had pinned the woman
against the wall and had one hand around her throat. The poor
woman managed to say something--I couldn't hear what it was, but
I knew it was bad when I saw the cerulean blue eyes narrow.

Marina released the heavyset woman, shoving her into the wall.
She leaned in slightly and, as the trapped woman looked for an
avenue of escape, gave vent to her anger. "I am *not* a
fucking drug dealer! What the hell is it with you people?"
As she stalked off, I ducked into the bathroom and locked myself
in a stall.

**********

"Becca! Where the hell have you been?" Stephanie
thrust a fresh drink into my hand and pulled me down onto the
padded bench of our booth. "I've been looking all over for
you."

"Bathroom." I squeezed the lime into my drink, then
tossed it carelessly onto the growing pile of debris on the
table.

"So?" She leaned forward. "What happened with
you and tall, dark and brooding?"

My head fell back against the seat. "I made such a fool
of myself," I moaned. "She must think Im a total
psycho."

Stephanie laughed out loud. "News flash. Anyone who used
to hang out with Tiffany knows a psycho when she sees one, and
you're not it."

I tilted my head slightly. "Thanks, I think."

"How did you make a fool of yourself, anyway?"

"First of all I practically threw myself at her, then I
commented on her deodorant, and then when she tried to talk to
me, I took off." I groaned and buried my face in my hands.
"Please tell me she's gone."

"No can do, babe. She's over by the bar." When I
groaned again Steph took pity on me. "Tell ya what. Let's go
play some pool. Maybe she won't see you over there."

I sighed, trying to regain my composure. I could handle this.
I'd made an ass of myself before, and Goddess knows I probably
would again. So I blew my chance with the hottest woman I'd ever
seen. No need to dwell on it, right? Besides, that girl with the
nice ass was still over by the pool tables and she didn't seem to
be with anyone. *I wonder if she likes redheads?*

"All right, Steph, but I gotta warn ya, I'm gonna kick
your ass." I stood and held out a hand to help her up.

"Yeah, you and whose army?"

Our friendly banter continued as we pushed our way toward the
back of the bar.

**********

"Can I buy you a drink?" The six words I'd been
dying to hear all night were delivered not in a dusky contralto
but an adorable, almost childlike treble. I turned to look into
blue eyes. Not cerulean blue, not crystal blue, or cornflower
blue, or even icy blue. Just....blue. I sighed.

"That would be nice. Vodka and tonic." I swirled the
plastic cup to mix my now watery drink as Whitney smiled and
walked away.

Steph put her elbow on my shoulder and leaned against me.
"She's cute."

"Yeah," I said listlessly. "I guess so."

"Great ass."

"Oh yeah." Couldn't argue with that.

"She's definitely interested."

"You think?" I perked up a bit at that because, as
I've already told you, my sex life of late has been limited to
inanimate--or, rather, battery-animated--objects, and having a
real live girl in my bed would be a definite improvement, right?

Then again, now that I thought about it, my sex life had been
better over the last couple of months than it had for a long,
long time. "Bitch," I muttered. "Even when she's
only a figment of my imagination she's better than my ex."

Just then Whitney came back with our drinks. "Here you
go." She brushed past Marina and perched on the stool beside
mine, resting a hand on my thigh. "Friend of yours?"
Her nose crinkled as she smiled up at Marina.

Who growled. *My god, did she just bare her teeth?* My pulse
started racing.

Whitney gulped audibly, then moved her hand back to her own
thigh.

"Hey, Becca, you gonna break or what?" Stephanie was
standing at the end of the pool table, hands on hips.

I looked from Marina to Steph and back again.

"You play," Marina ordered Whitney, who jumped off
her perch and practically ran to pick up a stick. The brunette
then leaned against the vacated stool, crossing her long legs in
front of her. She took a sip of her dark beer then, looking me
straight in the eye, asked, "Been thinking about me
lately?"

It was straight out of The Jungle Book. You know, the snake
with the crazy eyes who sings "Trust In Me" while he
hypnotizes his prey? Well, that's exactly what was happening.
Looking into those gorgeous blue eyes I was absolutely
hypnotized. Its the only explanation for what happened
next.

"I haven't been able to think of anything else," I
whispered. "Just you."

Her eyes were an impossibly dark shade of blue as she leaned
in and brushed her lips across mine so gently that I might have
imagined it. "Come with me."

I simply nodded and took her outstretched hand, following her
out of the bar.

**********

We were out on the street in a matter of minutes and I found
myself hoping she'd throw me up against the wall--or, better
still, her motorcycle--and kiss me senseless.

Instead, she leaned against a parking meter and pulled me
between her thighs, cupping my chin in her hand. "Your eyes
are the most amazing shade of green," she murmured.
"They remind me of..." she paused for a moment,
searching for the words, "fresh-cut grass." She smiled
for a moment, then added, "Only they don't make my nose
run."

I can tell you with complete honesty that no one had ever said
that to me before. I almost laughed in her face but then I saw
the sincerity in her chlorine-blue eyes. I reached out an
unsteady hand to touch her face and, seeing my hesitation, she
put her hand over mine and brought it to her soft, warm cheek,
still looking into my eyes as I caressed her face.

"You're so beautiful," I said softly, then pulled
away my hand and looked down. "But I guess you hear that a
lot."

"Yes, I do." She gently tilted my chin up. "But
not from anybody I cared about, until now."

I was dreaming. That had to be it. This was not what I'd
imagined all those nights. And afternoons. And mornings. What was
she saying? Why weren't we kissing yet?

In fact, this was obviously a nightmare, brought on by the
combination of guacamole, melon liqueur, and vodka. Here I was,
nestled between the legs of the sleek, confident sexual predator
that I'd been fantasizing about for months and not only had she
not even tried to kiss me, she was actually trying to conduct a
sensitive chat!

Hoping to distract her, I licked my lips and leaned forward
slightly, then froze when I heard her next words.

"When I looked in your eyes, it was like I'd known you
forever."

My breath caught in my throat. In that instant, as I looked at
her, the world shrank to include only us, blue eyes locked onto
green in a bone-deep connection that transcended the boundaries
of space and time.

"You feel it too." Her voice was full of wonder.

I nodded, hypnotized anew. "From the first time I saw
you."

A brilliant smile lit up her face as she pulled me closer.
"Like we were meant to be together."

All right, so maybe this wasn't a nightmare after all. I
nuzzled Marina's neck, suddenly desperate to inhale her rich,
spicy scent. I felt her pulse against my lips and I sucked there,
gently at first but then harder, wanting to mark her even if it
was only in my dream.

She moaned and her hands clutched at my back. She moved them
up to my shoulders and gently pushed me away. "Let's
go."

I looked around. "Where's your bike?"

She frowned. "What bike?"

"You don't have a motorcycle?"

She laughed. "No. What gave you that idea?"

I blushed and, unsure what I should say, mumbled something
about her jacket.

She smiled again then, suddenly serious, spoke quietly.
"I know you've probably heard things about me." Seeing
me nod, she continued. "Some of it's true, but most isn't.
I'm not a dealer or a gang member, I don't have any tattoos, and
I've never worked for the cops."

I gestured for her to go on.

"I'm not a model, an actress, or a reporter." She
glanced at me with a self-deprecating smile. "I own a
computer but I have no idea how it works."

I smiled back. "Neither do I."

"I have, however, been with a lot of women." She
looked down. "And men."

I jammed my hands into my pockets, waiting for the rest.

"Sometimes I like to play a little rough," she saw
my saucered eyes and added quickly, "but only with partners
who are willing."

I wanted to raise my hand and jump up and down. Was I ever
willing. I squeezed my thighs together, imagining myself in
restraints, pushing my body upward against hers in an effort to
maximize contact.

A small whimper escaped my throat.

She looked at me, her surprised expression quickly replaced by
a knowing, sexy grin. "I see. You ready to go?"

"Yes," I swallowed. "Please."

"Where do you live?"

"17th and S."

"Let's go then." She pushed off the parking meter
and started up Connecticut toward my apartment.

I pinched myself, hard. No, it definitely wasn't a dream. It
was the single most intense encounter I'd ever had and we'd
hardly even touched. I hurried after her, hoping against hope
that I'd remembered to put my toys away.

**********

I didn't say a word the whole way home, mesmerized by Marina's
long legs and her loose, easy stride. Now that I was only about
15 minutes away from actually being alone with her, my
imagination was working overtime.

I'd seen the lace of her demi-cup bra outlined against her
tight t-shirt at the bar. What was she wearing under her 501s?
Matching lace panties? A thong? Would silk boxers go with a lace
bra? While debating the answer to that last question, I almost
walked right past my building.

"It's this one," I said, fumbling in my pocket for
the key as I gestured toward the stairs.

I somehow managed to get the door open and we entered my
living room. A quick look around reassured me that the place was
presentable.

Marina said nothing as she went around the room, looking at
the books, CDs, and photos that adorned my bookshelves.

Nervous, I did what I do best: babble. "Would you like a
drink? I'm sure I've got something in the fridge. There's water,
tea, gatorade "

"I'm fine." She turned and slowly walked over behind
me, then removed her jacket and tossed it over the back of the
sofa. Her hands rested on my shoulders, massaging them lightly
through my denim jacket. I leaned back into her, my eyes closed,
straightening my arms when she pulled the jacket from my body.

Strong arms closed around my shoulders as she nuzzled my hair.
Needing to see her, I turned around and rested my hands against
her belly, my thumbs rubbing the smooth skin left exposed by her
cropped shirt. She picked me up and set me on the back of the
sofa. I wrapped my legs around her waist, pulling her close. We
stayed that way, holding each other, for several moments.

Finally, she tilted my chin up and gently kissed me.

To this day I don't know what came over me but if I find out
I'll pass it along. All I know is that at the first touch of her
lips on mine, I needed more. I pushed off the sofa and launched
myself into her body, causing her to stagger back as she tried to
maintain her balance. I suppose I should have been concerned
about her ability to support my weight, but I'd seen her at the
gym enough to know that I was safe.

I kissed her hungrily, wrapping my arms around her neck and
moaning when she opened her mouth to me. For a beautiful, shining
moment it was just her and me and passion and tongues and spit,
and then the sudden impact of my back against the wall of my
bedroom. *How did we get in here?* She broke the kiss and I
whimpered.

"What, are you trying to kill me?" She took a couple
of deep breaths. "Jesus."

She was gorgeous. Her hair was wild, her face flushed, her
lips bruised. As I looked at her, my ego began a happy dance and
high-fived my raging libido, saying "go get her,
tiger!" I felt my mouth widen in a goofy grin.

I tilted my head back, then shivered when she teased my lower
lip, sucking it gently for a moment before pulling back and
readjusting my weight in her arms.

"You ready to move this to the bed?" I nodded and
she lifted me, carrying me effortlessly across the room and then
gently lowering me to the bed.

Kneeling, I put my hands on her hips, lacing my fingers
loosely through the belt loops of her jeans, then gave a sharp
tug. She tumbled onto me, sprawling us both across the mattress.

Without saying a word, she smoothed my hair back from my face
and kissed me, gently at first but with increasing intensity,
until we were both moaning.

I was in heaven. Almost. Skin. Needed more skin. I tugged at
her shirt and, when she removed it, started on the buttons of her
501s. She kicked off her boots and pants and stood before me like
a goddess in her lacy black bra, matching high-cut bikini
underwear, and knee-length black socks.

She knelt beside the bed and, taking my hands in hers, pulled
me to a sitting position, then reached for my already-untucked
shirt.

I needed no further encouragement. Just like a four-year-old,
I lifted my arms in the air so she could more easily remove the
garment. While she ogled my breasts, I started on the zipper of
my jeans.

"Slow down, Becca."

I gaped at her. Slow down? What the hell was she talking
about? This was already way, way slower than it needed to be. I'd
be more than happy to put everything back on later so she could
undress me as slowly as she liked. Now, however, I wanted to be
naked as soon as possible.

She shoved me back onto the mattress and growled playfully.
"Stay."

That was more like it.

**********

Marina stood at the end of the bed watching me as I lay there
in my sheer peach floral bra, jeans--zipper halfway down
revealing matching panties--and cowboy boots. I stayed still for
all of 30 seconds before I started squirming under the intensity
of her gaze but she stayed motionless, her lips curved in a ghost
of a smile.

*What does a girl have to do to get laid around here?* Unable
to take it anymore, I raised myself on my elbows and glared at
her. "I'm waiting."

She raised an eyebrow. "You gonna be good?"

*You have no idea.* I bit back a smirk and nodded.

"All right then." She knelt beside the bed, took my
foot in her hand and pulled off the brown boot, her eyes never
leaving mine.

Now, I know this is gonna sound ridiculous, and I wouldn't
have believed it myself if I hadn't been there, but there is
something incredibly, mindblowingly sexy about lying there
half-undressed while a girl in black lace underwear pulls your
boots off. Trust me on this. I actually whimpered when she
reached for the other foot.

Shoving our footwear aside, Marina rose slightly and put her
hands on my thighs, tugging gently at my jeans, which came off
easily and pooled at the foot of the bed. She climbed up on the
bed and lay on her side, inches from me, her head propped on one
arm.

I turned onto my side, admiring the gentle curves of her
thigh, hip, waist. When my gaze finally reached her face she was
smiling. "Isn't this better?" She trailed a finger down
my throat, between my clavicles and into the valley of my
breasts.

Oh yes, this was most certainly better. I felt another whimper
catch in my throat as goosebumps erupted over my skin. Her hand
closed over my breast, cupping it gently. Arching into her touch,
I put a hand on her waist, pulling her toward me.

"Please," I whispered. "Please."

She kissed me again, another soft, teasing kiss that promised
the world, then reached around to unclasp my bra. As I rolled
onto my back, she eased the straps down my arms and tossed the
garment aside. Long strands of black hair tickled my chest as she
leaned in and took one nipple into her mouth, moaning as she
began to suckle. She nibbled and licked her way to the other
breast.

Good as this was, and it was awfully damn good, I wanted more.
Marina threw one long leg over my hip and lowered herself onto
me, eliciting an all-out groan from both of us. I pulled her
toward me and kissed her deeply, roughly. When she came up for
air, I ducked my head and, pushing the lace aside, sucked
hungrily at her breast.

She pushed away and sat up, straddling my hips. "I
thought you were gonna be good."

"And I'm not?" No, no cockiness in that statement.

"That's not what I meant." Her voice was low,
seductive, distracting me while she grasped my wrists and raised
them above my shoulders. "And you know it."

She shifted her weight forward, effectively pinning me to the
mattress. I could see the pulse point in her neck and tried to
make contact with it but her mouth, throat, and breasts were all
just barely out of my reach.

I considered struggling, but let's face it, who was I kidding?
I was exactly where I wanted to be. Looking into eyes gone dark
with passion, I knew that she was too. I relaxed my arms.

"That's better." She kissed me lightly on the mouth,
then moved down to lavish attention on my breasts, squeezing and
kneading and suckling. Her tongue flicked an erect nipple and,
feeling my hips jerk, Marina repeated the action on the other
breast. My hips took up a gentle rhythm as she continued her
ministrations.

My hands tangled in Marina's inky hair and I breathed in the
scent of leather, cinnamon and our combined arousal. "God,
you feel good."

She looked up at me and I nearly came right then and there. I
was still trying to catch my breath when she resumed her journey
downward, kissing and licking her way down my torso.

When she reached the band of my panties she sat up, gently
caressing my belly. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

It took a minute for the question to penetrate the haze of my
arousal. "You're kidding me, right?"

"I just...I don't want to rush into anything."

Bit late for that, I mused, seeing as how we're both in our
panties. I looked into blue eyes that were clouded with
confusion. "What's going on, Marina?" I turned around
on the bed, pulling my legs up toward my body.

"I--I've never felt this way about anybody, Becca,"
she confessed, looking down at her hands. "I think I love
you."

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I managed
to wrestle Keith and the Partridge siblings back into the deep
recesses of my mind.

*Oh, man, we definitely need to talk.* The gravity of the
situation asserted itself. With a deep sigh, I stood and went to
the closet, retrieving my favorite ratty baby-blue terrycloth
robe. "Want a t-shirt or something?"

She shook her head. "No thanks."

Apparently she had no modesty whatsoever. This is not
something that I would normally complain about, but given the
situation, it was...distracting. Closing my eyes, I tried to
focus on the matter at hand.

**********

I sighed again and tried to regain some composure. "I'm
gonna make myself some tea. Would you like some?" She nodded
and followed me down the hall.

Marina gave a small gasp we entered the kitchen, prompting me
to look quickly around the room. "What is it?"

"Where did you get all this?" she asked, wide-eyed,
gesturing at the contents of the counter and the glass-paneled
cabinets. Walking over to the stove, she trailed a hand over the
cast-iron dutch oven that sat on one of the burners, caressing
its porcelain finish. "Are you a chef?"

"No," I said slowly, watching as she padded around
my kitchen in her black lace panties, pulling a Wusthof knife
from its wooden block and testing the sharpness of the blade
against her thumb. "No, I'm not."

"You must cook a lot, though." After replacing the
knife, she fiddled with the steamer on the espresso maker.
"Right?" She turned to face me.

I looked down at my feet. "Um..." Truth is, I don't,
at least not if I can help it. You'd never know to see my
kitchen, though, which is stocked with the best cookware money
can buy.

Marina pulled a turkey baster out of a plastic canister and
raised one eyebrow.

I spun around and grabbed the silver teakettle, filled it and
clicked on the burner. "Tea's in there," I gestured
toward the cabinet nearest the refrigerator. "Why dont
you pick something?"

Satisfied that the teamaking, at least, was under control, I
headed into the living room to put on some music, unable to deal
with the nearly deafening silence in the kitchen.

**********

I settled onto a wooden chair, resting my cup of lemongrass
tea on the table, trying to make sense of the events of the past
two hours. *First she comes on like gangbusters, then she tries
to tell me that even though we hardly know each other, this isn't
just casual sex, then she practically ties me to the bed, and
now--having left me high and dry--she's asking about my kitchen
appliances as though nothing's wrong.* I knew I should say
something but seeing her leaning against my counter in her
panties, long legs crossed at the ankle, hands wrapped around an
earthenware mug, rendered me speechless.

She looked up at me when I tucked one leg under my body.
"Good tea."

I nodded.

"I guess I probably owe you an apology," she
offered, with a low chuckle and a sheepish expression. Pushing
away from the counter, she began to pace the length of the
kitchen. In a low, intense voice, she continued, "I don't
know what's going on. I've been thinking about you, dreaming
about you. Well, not you exactly," she ran a hand through
her dark hair, "unless you have a pea-green sports
bra?"

I shook my head.

"Didn't think so. Anyway, I tried to ignore it until I
saw you the other day at the gym. When your eyes met mine, I
finally understood." She stopped pacing, standing directly
in front of me. "You're a part of me." She knelt.
"You're my other half."

I choked on my tea, usually a bad thing, but now provided a
wonderful reason for me not to respond to her statement. She
jumped back to avoid being sprayed, setting her breasts in
motion, and once again I inhaled hot liquid. As I coughed and
sputtered, I wondered whether anyone, even someone as hot as this
woman, was worth what I'd been put through all day.

Once she was convinced that I was all right, Marina walked
back over to the knife block and pulled out my slightly dull
fillet knife and sharpening steel. Settling herself against the
counter, she began to hone the blade with slow, easy strokes.

After a few moments, she began to speak. "Have you ever
read Plato's Symposium?" She smirked at my startled
look. "Let me guess. You thought I dropped out of school and
could barely read?"

Ashamed, I looked into my tea. "Of course not."

She waved a hand. "Whatever. Have you read it?" When
I shook my head, she raised an eyebrow. "Really. That's
surprising."

My eyes narrowed slightly. "Your point?"

With a chuckle, she continued. "In the story, a group of
men get together for a banquet and they start talking about love.
One of them, Aristophenes, says that in ancient times all people
were round and had four arms and legs. Their heads had two faces,
one looking in each direction. They also had two sets of
genitals, one male and one female. They tumbled and rolled around
and generally had a good time, and the gods were so angry at
man's pride and strength that finally Zeus split them all in two.
He allowed Apollo to heal everyone by tying their open half
shut," she gestured toward her navel, "and then the
gods watched as these new half-humans tried to find their mate. I
guess he felt sorry for 'em, because at some point he moved their
genitals around to the front."

"Why did you say you read this?"

"I was a philosophy major," she said hurriedly,
turning to replace the knife and sharpening steel in the wood
block.

I felt my eyebrows take off under my bangs.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, my mind racing at the
contradictions this woman embodied. I mean, who ever heard of a
philosopher wearing leather?

"Anyway, the reason I'm telling you this," walking
over to me, she knelt once again and gazed earnestly into my
eyes, "is that I think I've found--I think you are--my other
half. Now, I know," she hesitated and looked at the floor,
"that I'm not exactly the perfect catch. I've done a lot of
things that Im not necessarily proud of. So if you want me
to go..."

"What are you talking about?" I was hopelessly
confused. Clearly this wasn't just about sex anymore, which in
some ways was fine by me, but I wasn't entirely sure what exactly
that meant. I'd been fantasizing about Marina since the moment I
first saw her, but that was about sex, right? And the dreams....
Well, those weren't Marina's strong arms that held me close while
I dozed beside a campfire. They belonged to some other
dark-haired, blue-eyed, leather-clad woman. In fact, I reasoned,
that blonde, green-eyed woman dozing by the fire wasn't even me.
I wouldn't be caught dead in a pea-green sports bra.

"Oh shit," I breathed. "It is you."

Her sapphire orbs radiated pure joy. She whispered, "It's
me," just before she kissed me tenderly, but I wanted none
of that. I put one hand on the back of her neck and yanked,
enjoying the clash of lips, tongues, and teeth as we kissed.

Soon our moans drowned out the Melissa Etheridge CD that I'd
popped into the stereo earlier. Several minutes later, Marina
lifted me in her powerful arms and once again carried me into the
bedroom.

**********

Back in my bedroom, Marina placed me gently on the bed and lay
down beside me. She smiled and tugged at the belt of my bathrobe,
then quirked an eyebrow.

I stood up and tore the robe off, throwing it onto the floor,
and was about to give my panties the same treatment when I
remembered her earlier instructions. Instead, I stretched
languorously, running my hands down my body, over taut breasts
and smoothly muscled abdomen, then lay down once again.

"You are gorgeous," she murmured, leaning in to kiss
my neck. "Beautiful." She ran a finger along my
jawline. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Goddess, did this woman ever stop talking? I had thought she
was the strong silent type, but apparently I was wrong. Very
wrong. I wrapped my hands in her thick black hair--determined to
shut her up once and for all--when she began nuzzling my neck,
mixing her kisses with whispered descriptions of what she planned
to do to me for the rest of the night.

Maybe talking wasn't so bad after all. I whimpered and allowed
her hair to slip through my fingers as she slowly began to make
her way down my body.

Years later, she dipped her tongue into my navel, then kissed
the soft skin just below it. "I want to see all of
you," she said, dipping a finger under the waistband of my
panties. I looked into her eyes, almost prussian blue with
arousal, and felt myself nodding. I lifted my hips slightly and
she delicately removed my underwear.

"Mmm," she hummed as she kissed the insides of my
thighs, her hands running up and down my sides.
"Perfect."

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back up for a searing kiss.
Pushing her over onto her side, I caressed her breasts. She
moaned and rolled onto her back, pulling me on top of her.
"That's it, baby," she said when I took the pebbled
flesh of her nipple into my mouth. "Oh, you feel so
good."

Obviously not good enough if she was still able to speak in
complete sentences. I redoubled my efforts, kneading one breast
as I suckled the other. Her breasts were amazing, so soft and
round and . She yelped as I nipped the tender skin, snapping
me out of the breast-worshipping haze I'd slipped into.

Marina's wonderful scent of leather and spice changed subtly,
picking up earthy, musky undertones, as I explored her body. She
continued to murmur encouraging phrases, punctuated with sensual
moans, as I kissed her belly and her thighs.

And what thighs they were. Long and strong, with smooth, silky
skin. Those thighs were made for sex; the thought of being
trapped between them when she reached the height of passion
caused me to shiver with anticipation.

I rubbed my cheek against the sensitive skin, smiling when I
noticed how thoroughly soaked her panties were. *Time to get rid
of those.* I peeled them off her and dropped them on the floor
beside the bed, then just sat back and looked at the magnificent
body that lay before me.

I had barely enough time to take it all in when she growled
and, moving with a leonine grace, flipped me onto my back and
pinned me to the bed.

Her hands were everywhere--in my hair, on my breasts, my
belly. I could feel the moisture trickling down my thighs and,
judging from what she was saying, so could she.

I couldn't remember ever having been so aroused. Just
listening to her was taking me right to the edge; I had to do
something or I would come before she ever touched me.

"Inside," I panted.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

I had her down to two-word sentences. This was definitely
going well.

"Lube?"

"Nightstand."

I realized my mistake just as she turned to open the top
drawer, the one that doubled as my toybox. "No!" I sat
up abruptly, jerking my thighs, and lunged for her arm. She
pulled it back and that momentum, combined with my sudden motion,
carried her right off the bed and onto the hardwood floor of the
bedroom.

I peered over the edge of the bed, my relief at the successful
diversion mingled with concern for my soon-to-be (or maybe not,
at this rate) lover.

"Owww," Marina whined, rubbing her bottom.
"Your floor broke my ass."

She looked so adorable that I began to giggle and then, when I
tried to stop, snorted.

She got up an all fours. "You laughing at me?"

I shook my head even while I chortled.

Blue eyes narrowed as she climbed up onto the bed. "You
think this is funny?"

I tried to calm myself, taking slow, deep breaths, but it was
too late. I lost it, dissolving into hysterical laughter,
quieting only when she positioned herself over me, looking down
with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Now, Marina," I said nervously. "You wouldn't
want to do anything hasty now, would you?"

She pounced.

**********

I awoke just as the sun peeked into my bedroom, its rays
illuminating the sable hair on the pillow beside me. In sleep,
Marina's face was calm and peaceful, almost like a child's.
Snuggling closer, I replayed the events of the night in my mind.

A thousand fantasies hadn't even come close to the reality of
being loved by Marina--her strong shoulders against the backs of
my thighs, the gentle pressure of her palm on my hip, the silky
strands of her hair on my belly, the intensity of her violet-blue
gaze--and I'd reached my peak almost instantly, crying out as my
body convulsed again and again.

**********

I was alone in my bed when I woke up again. For one aching
moment I thought that Marina had left, but then a delicious
aroma--eggs and bacon, or maybe ham--wafted in the open door of
my room.

Curious, I put on a green silk robe and padded out to the
kitchen where I found Marina standing by the stove in her tiny
ribbed t-shirt and black panties cooking a frittata.

"Morning," she said cheerily, handing me a glass of
fresh-squeezed orange juice as I sat down at the table.

"Oh," she blushed and turned back to the stove to
stir the home-fried potatoes. "Your refrigerator was empty,
so I went out and did a little shopping."

This was quickly becoming the best morning after of my entire
life.

"Marina, you didn't--"

"I know I didn't." She leaned against the counter
and smiled shyly. "I wanted to."

A big old shit-eating grin appeared on my face. I tried to
stop it, I really did, but it was there to stay.

"Thank you, Marina," I got up and wrapped my arms
around her waist, pulling her close.

"Call me Mara." She kissed the top of my head, then
gently pushed me away. "This'll be ready in a minute or two.
Now scoot."

I sipped my juice and watched as she expertly slid the
frittata onto a plate and garnished it with a sprig of mint, a
slice of melon, and several blueberries.

"Go ahead and start," she said. "Mine's in the
oven, and the tea should be ready."

This was *definitely* the best morning after of my entire
life. Better even than the time that redhead in Prague told me
where I could find grapes in October.

She sat down across from me and picked up her fork, hesitating
when she noticed my untouched plate. "Something wrong?"

"What?"

"You're not eating. Is something wrong?"

Oh, man, she looked adorable when she was worried. Bit her
lower lip and everything. That, of course, triggered memories of
another time that I'd seen those teeth on that lip, and I
realized that the sooner I finished my breakfast, the sooner I
could see her do it again.

Picking up my fork, I dug into the omelet. "Mmmm," I
moaned. "Oh, Marina, this is amazing."

A thousand watts of smile lit up the room. "I'm glad you
think so," she said, then reached across the table and took
one of my hands in hers. "I'd really like it if you called
me Mara." When I nodded, she squeezed my hand before letting
it go.

We finished eating in silence. While Marina drank her tea, I
rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. Everything
else had already been washed, dried, and put neatly in its place.

"Marina?"

She quirked an eyebrow at me over her teacup.

"Sorry. Mara." The smile again. I just knew that I
was gonna spend the rest of my life finding things that she liked
just to see that smile. Then again, if the previous night was any
indication, I wasn't going to have to try very hard.

"I mean, I've had sex before--a lot of it, really--but
that was...." she leaned her forehead against mine and
caught me in a steady gaze. "Thank you, Becca."

Turns out it's really hard to focus on a face at extremely
close range. I blinked. "For what?"

"For showing me how to make love."

My lips met hers in a scorching, soul-stealing kiss. That kiss
led to another, and then another, and another, until Marina broke
away, saying, "If you dont want to break the teapot,
we need to move this into the bedroom."

Laughing, I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall.

**********

Marina's gentle stroking of my hair and the warm spring day
were putting me to sleep.

"Did you have any plans for this afternoon?" Her
voice sounded as lazy as I felt.

"Not really. You?" I turned to look into dancing
sky-blue eyes.

"I was planning go to the gym for a while."

"Oh." After what she'd put my body through I wasn't
sure I could make it up the stairs, let alone work out. My ego
turned around three times, curled up into a little ball, and
whimpered.

"Yeah," she said casually as she stretched, then
settled me against her chest. "There's this adorable blonde
I've been dying to meet."

"Why you little..." She shrieked with laughter when
I began tickling her, then took off down the hall with me in hot
pursuit.

I finally caught up with her in the bathroom. She was backed
up against the counter with no hope of escape. Never taking my
eyes off her, I opened the shower curtain and turned on the
shower, flicking some of the icy water on her.

"I gotcha now, Mara," I taunted. "You're gonna
get wet."

She just laughed and began to hum the theme song from Flipper.

My eyes saucered and I followed her turquoise-blue gaze. Sure
enough, there he was, perched on the edge of the tub.

"Oh man." I buried my face in my hands.

"It's ok, Becca," she said, pulling me close. I
could hear her laughter rumbling through her chest. "Mine's
a beaver."

**********

I sat on the bed watching Marina run a comb through her damp
hair. "You are so beautiful."

She sat down behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder.
"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that."

After arranging the pillows against the headboard, she leaned
back, turning me slightly so that my head was cradled against her
shoulder.

I was still trying to get over my amazement that this sleek,
sexual creature had such a tender side to her. Snuggling against
her so that she wouldn't see my smile, I remembered a snippet of
conversation from our shower; holding the container of Sunshine
& Flowers moisturizing body wash, she'd said, "Ah, that
explains it."

"Explains what?" I'd asked.

"Why you always smell like sunshine."

Her deep contralto pulled me out of my daydream. "I love
you, baby."

I tilted my head up for a kiss. "Love you too,
Mara."

"You getting hungry again?"

I nodded. "I could eat."

"Chicken sound ok? I thought I could saute it with
mushrooms and a wine sauce, maybe some rice pilaf on the
side..."

"Uh, Mara?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"You don't have to do this, you know. We can go out and
get something."

"Oh." She hesitated, then continued uncertainly,
"Well, if you'd rather--"

"No," I interrupted, "I'd like it if you
cooked. I just didn't want you to feel like you have to or
anything."

"I like to cook," she kissed me quickly. "It's
what I do."

"What you do?" I looked at her quizzically.

"Um, yeah. Didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"I'm a pastry chef at the Heidelberg Bakery."

No doubt about it, I was in heaven. The only thing missing was
a Harley. I smiled mischievously.